


Harder

by majortom



Series: Currere Sex [3]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: (but not angst!cutting), F/M, Paradigm Shifts, Sadomasochism, Slavery, Vulpes POV, mentions of cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majortom/pseuds/majortom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vulpes meets a slave. She's not an NCR Ranger. In fact, she's something completely different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This does have underage stuff in it. But remember, this is a Roman based slaver culture living in a post-apocalyptic society. While Roman marriage by the first century BCE was markedly more equal between men and women than it is in "Kaisar"'s Legion, the custom they probably would embrace more easily is the young age of "consent" for sexual relations and the marriageability of girls. So Vulpes is 23/24 ish, and the girl is around 15 at the beginning of this story, and that's probably pretty normal for their culture.

 

 

\---

 

"Harder."

Vulpes froze. "What?"

"Do it harder. Please."

He dropped the crop as if it burned him and left the tent.

\---

What had started as a simple exercise to release his frustration had left him shaken, and if that was the woman's goal she had achieved it.

She wasn't supposed to enjoy it.

She was lying, obviously. Trying to unsettle him.

He was unsettled.

The thought that anyone would enjoy pain in that way was incredibly unsettling.

He found, to his surprise, that he liked the thought a great deal. He hoped, unreasonably, illogically, shamefully, that she wasn't lying.

\---

He returned to her the next evening. He hadn't planned on keeping her, but the thought of her whispering, _"harder,"_ imagining, _"yes, Vulpes, please, harder, yes, oh God, right now, do it, yes,"_ ran through his mind all day.

He ran his fingers along the raised welts on her back. She shivered.

"Please," _yes harder oh fuck,_ "I have to use the latrine."

He untied her. "It's around the back."

He sat heavily with his face in his hands. Hopefully she would never return.

She did. She was born and raised a Legion slave. Where else would she go? She stood meekly at his side.

Maybe she did like it.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

She looked surprised. "Servillia."

"Who gave that name to you?"

"The Priestesses."

"You've never been owned before?"

"No. Last night was my first night away from the other women."

So there had been no man to train her to say _harder yes faster oh god Vulpes please,_ no man to take her to his bed. She was young. Could someone be born to naturally enjoy pain?

"Get on the bed."

She went quickly, and he stared down at her for a moment.

"You liked what I did to you last night," he said quietly. "Didn't you?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. Her yellow hair surrounded her head like a halo. She looked away. "Yes, Vulpes," she whispered.

He shook his head incredulously. He asked, "Were you beaten as a child?"

"The Priestesses hit your knuckles with a stick if you misbehave," she said. "But that is all."

"And did you enjoy that?" She nodded. "Why?"

"I don't know. No one else did. I... I didn't talk about it."

He still didn't understand, but having spent all day thinking about it he could hold back no longer. He quickly stripped her clothing off. She trembled nervously. "I--"

There were thin scars on her thighs and stomach.

"Who did this to you?"

She averted her eyes. "I... no one. I did. It just... feels... good."

He stroked the scars absentmindedly and wondered if her body was simply put together wrong, interpreting pain as pleasure. He decided that it didn't really matter. "Let's make you feel good, then."

\---

He watched her through the open flap of his tent. Her task as a slave was carrying water from the river. She brought it to the mess tent and the laundry area. It kept her arms strong and her shoulders stooped. He caressed her bruises each night. He could get her an easier job, but she never complained. He asked her, and she had only shrugged. I don't mind it, Vulpes, she had said before pulling him towards the bed. He watched her, and struggled with himself. He couldn't decide if his feelings were Dissolute, or hers were. He reasoned that hurting someone who enjoyed it was no worse, was better perhaps, than hurting someone who didn't. But the thought never comforted him for long. He had never seen or heard of such a thing. Was she the only one in the world? Was he? Were they... unique?

She seemed to stand alone, always a step removed from the world around her. Even Vulpes himself. Sometimes he felt the only time she was real was when they were in bed together. She was a slave, but to look at her one wouldn't think so. She was never unhappy. She floated above the dirt of the Wasteland, above anger and sickness. Above pain.

She returned to the tent and he followed her inside. He watched her rebraid her hair. A complicated pattern she claimed to have learned from the Priestesses, but he had never seen it on another slave. Servillia. Much too common a name. Evanidis, Evanidia perhaps.

"Do you like your name, Servillia?" he asked her.

She fastened the last lock of hair into place. "What's in a name?" she said.

Indeed.

\---

They lay on the bed, slightly sticky from sweat and the heat of the desert. Vulpes turned to her and traced the red lines on her shoulders.

"I have a mission tomorrow. It should take less than a week."

"Alright."

He frowned. Alright? That was it? He didn't know what he wanted her to say, couldn't imagine what else she would say. She was secure in his abilities. She never told him to be careful; she knew he would be. She did not fear for his safety because she believed in him. He knew that. He appreciated that about her. But tonight, he wanted more. He couldn't explain it. The mission was not a dangerous one. Not moreso than usual. He felt the intimacy that existed in their painful encounters was fading too quickly this time. She was receding from him again. Not on purpose. It was her nature. For the first time, he resented it.

"What would you do if I did not return?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a strange look. "I would go back to the slave barracks," she said. "Did you not know?"

"Until someone else laid a claim on you," he said.

"I suppose."

He tried again. "Would you... miss me?" he whispered.

She rolled over to face him with the strangest smile he had ever seen. Sad, happy, affectionate, exasperated. So many things lived in her smile, and it was beautiful. "Yes," she said, and she kissed him, and he believed her whole-heartedly.

\---

Cato joined him for the midday meal in the mess tent. He had been back for a few days from an extended scouting mission and was happy to be in civilization, but he still found things to complain about.

"I mean, really," he said as they sat down. "What do the priestesses even teach these women? She can't even clean my armor properly."

"A travesty," Vulpes said flatly.

Cato grinned at him. "I suppose you can be glib. Everyone says you've got the prettiest, most well-behaved slave that ever lived."

Vulpes considered this as he ate. Physically, Servillia was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, indeed was not the most beautiful in the camp. Her hair was fine and golden, but there were others who had slimmer fingers, more ample bosoms. Her shoulders were permanently bowed from hauling water. Others had told him, though, that they thought she was the best. He imagined it was because there were no others who radiated simple happiness like she did. A smile on a slave was not a common occurrence. She walked through the wasteland as if it were beautiful, and people noticed. It made her beautiful in turn.

"I suppose I do," he said.

\---

The next morning after his daily ablutions he returned to the tent to find Servillia's bright eyes clouded by tears, her curved shoulders shaking with sobs. The sight was so alien to him that for a moment he could only stand by the doorway and stare. She looked up at him.

"Come to me, Vulpes," she pleaded, and buried her face in her hands.

He came and kneeled next to the bed, unsure of what to do with his hands, with his mouth. Eventually he took her hands from her face and held them in his. "What has happened, Servillia? What's wrong?"

"I had a dream," she said, before breaking into more tears.

"What dream?" he asked. "What dream could cause this?"

"Carmenta came to me."

"Carmenta?" Vulpes cursed. There were far too many Gods in this religion.

"She is a goddess of fertility and... she came to me," she said, her breathing starting to calm. "She told me I was with child."

"Servillia. Just because you had a dream--"

"I have suspected this for nearly three months."

He gaped at her, but soon began to smile. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure. I didn't want to worry you if I were wrong."

"Worry me? This is great news!" he said. "I did not plan on having a son so young, but--"

"It is a girl."

Vulpes was silent. He hadn't even considered that it might not be a boy. There was no shame in having a daughter, of course. It wasn't as though it could be controlled. But there was no honor in it, either. Was that what she was concerned about? It didn't seem likely.

"It's fine, Servillia."

"No, it is not fine!" she yelled, and began to cry again. He had never heard her raise her voice, not once. But then, he had never seen her cry, either. He tried to comfort her, but she would not be comforted. She ripped her hands from his and started pacing the tent. "They will take her from me."

"Yes," he agreed carefully. "They would take a son, too. Children are raised by the priestesses or by the instructors."

"It is not the same," she said. "And even still, I would not want them to take a son from me. But it does not matter. Carmenta told me it was a girl. And she told me what will happen to her if she stays here."

"It was just a dream--"

She turned to him. "I do not need a dream to tell me what I already know. She will be taken to the Priestesses, and eventually she will be taken by a Legion man to be owned."

Vulpes was shocked. "Surely you of all people do not hate the Legion or your place in life. Why would you say that it is not good enough for your daughter?" He hesitated. "Are you unhappy with your life?" he asked.

She seemed to calm immediately at his words. "No, Vulpes. I am not unhappy. Don't think that." She came to him and held his hands. "I have been lucky. I have had one man in my life, and that man is wise and thoughtful. And I..." she looked away. "I do not mind some of the harsher realities," she said delicately. "Other women are not so lucky as I. I cannot risk her life this way. Carmenta has told me that Andromeda will not share my qualities."

"Andromeda?"

Servillia smiled up at him. "Do you like it?"

"It is very pretty," he agreed. "But wasn't Andromeda sacrificed by her parents to save their own lives?"

"Not this time," she whispered. Her smile remained bright, but for a moment her eyes seemed clouded with sadness.

\---

Vulpes led Ulysses far from the camp before he felt comfortable enough to speak openly. They settled their backs against a cliff face in a narrow passage. A good place for a small force to engage a large enemy. A good place to have a treasonous conversation.

"May ask, Inculta, why you have called me back?"

His eyes wandered down Ulysses' dark locks of hair, to his dark eyes. So different from Servillia's light blue. Tears spilling from them as she told him. Each drop a chain, pulling her down.

He knew Ulysses didn't particularly like him, but they had saved each other's skin enough times to be in debt to the other their entire lives, even if they reached the unlikely age of fifty. And also, Ulysses was not the most... _devout_ of Legionaries. A fact that, in the past, had caused Vulpes distress. It would only help him this day.

"I think, Amicus, you can dispense with the formality of 'Inculta'. This is not strictly Legion business I wish to discuss. Anyway, there is no hurry. That courier you've been following will keep well enough for a week or two."

Ulysses snorted. "True enough. I know where she will end up."

"Yes," he replied. "Back to Hopeville. I imagine such a community, with such a name, must be a pleasant place to spend your time."

"It is interesting," he allowed.

"I imagine that in your travels, you encounter many similar towns."

"Some. Are you setting your sights further west?" he asked.

"In a way. In a way."

Ulysses was not inclined to tolerate long silences. "If we could move to the point, Vulpes, perhaps you would find it easier."

"Yes," he said quietly, but still took a moment before speaking. "My slave. She is with child. She tells me it will be female. I do not understand why she feels so certain, but she is. She has already named it Andromeda."

Ulysses nodded. "Mother's intuition. I've heard of it before." He eyed Vulpes. "The priestesses--"

"The priestesses will train her to be an empty shell. And one day a young girl I have never met will be plucked by a soldier who does not understand the difference between profligate and woman. I will not --" he cut himself off. "Not _mine,_ " he finished. _Not hers_ was left unsaid.

Ulysses chuckled. "I think you are assuming that your daughter will be a great beauty, to be chosen from the masses. Your woman must be extraordinarily stunning." Vulpes gave him a wan smile. "So, you want me to steal your daughter away in the night, give her to a profligate town? How delightfully disloyal."

"Not exactly. I would ask that you take Servillia away before she gives birth. Take her to a place as far west as you regularly travel. I want you to keep watch on her. I want you to always know where my daughter is," he said. "The situation at the Fort is such that I will not be able to take an extended leave for many months, or I would do this myself." Vulpes sighed heavily.

Ulysses raised an eyebrow at him. "I never knew you had such sentimentality."

"It is only natural to desire to protect one's own blood."

"This is a large favor you ask of me, _Amicus_."

Vulpes glared at him. "I would remind you of the multitude of times your head would've been separated from your body if not for my presence."

"And I would remind you of the same."

"Going by numbers," Vulpes retorted, "I think you would have to agree that you are rather more in my debt than I am in yours. Say you do this. Then I am slightly more in your debt than you are in mine."

"No, that can't be right. Last time I counted we were almost equal."

\---

After locating a stick and doing some basic arithmetic in the sand, Ulysses muttered, "I must be forgetting something."

"Your memory is spot on, dear friend. Even a favor such as mine will not clear the slate completely."

Ulysses laughed. "Not completely, no." They stood and brushed the sand from their clothing. "When do you want to do this?" Ulysses asked.

"Tomorrow."

Ulysses caught the other man's eye with a smile. "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur, eh?"

Vulpes scoffed.

\---

He watched Servillia struggle over the Latin book. He had taught her some basic reading and writing, but it was difficult for her. She tried valiantly, however. He did not miss that the books and passages she sought out involved the old gods, mostly Carmenta and Libera, another of the fertility goddesses. His eyes ran down the curves of her body; the waves in her hair, the angle of her elbow resting on the table, the bulge in her womb that contained part of himself. She was hiding something from him, he was sure. Something about the baby. But he knew her well enough that if she were, she had a reason, and he wouldn't be able to change her mind. She would tell him when it was time for him to know. He stood and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was warm. She looked up at him. Light blue eyes, brow furrowed from trying to decipher the text. He had not used the crop on her since the morning she had told him she was with child, and he would not do so tonight.

"I want to try something new, Servillia."

He handed the crop to her.

She went easy on him, Vulpes could tell. He said, "Harder," and he could no longer tell pleasure from pain.

\---

His hand did not shake as he read the letter.

_Vulpes-_

_Cassiopeia falls as Andromeda rises._

_Rome weeps with joy and loss._

\- _Ulysses_

His hand did not shake as he dropped it into the campfire.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur - Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, let me iterate that I am not making any kind of comment on cutting or on people who engage in BDSM type relationships. I'm not trying to say anything either way about the relative healthiness of Vulpes and Servillia's relationship. All this is, is something that occurred in Vulpes' past. Whether you think anything about it is right or wrong, good or bad, it is simply a story of what happened. If it offends you that a fifteen year old girl might like pain, I would argue that neural pathways can incorrectly report sensations of the body and interpret pain as pleasure. If it offends you that I compared masochism to incorrect neural pathways, I would argue that that certainly might not be the case. I've never been to medical school, and neither has anyone in the Legion. Perhaps Vulpes should ask Arcade about it. That would be a fun conversation..


End file.
